Lost
by corneroffandom
Summary: Ordinarily Jesse Pinkman is loud, annoying, and obnoxious. But somehow the silence is worse. Set during the final episode of season 2.


Radio silence. Normally Walter would _almost_ be glad to get a reprieve from Jesse's rushed, junky-addled ramblings. But not tonight. Not after watching Jane die and staying his own hand for his own self-interest. Not after receiving Jesse's panicked call upon finding her dead next to him. He stares at his phone, he taps his fingers against the table and he thinks about the future- keeping his role in her death to himself, trying to continue the cook with Jesse circling the drain and everything else going on.

None of that matters, though, if Jesse doesn't _contact_ him. And soon. He gives it another five minutes before he begins making calls of his own. Saul knows a guy who knows a guy, of course, and before Walt can even fully explain the situation, Saul's on it, moving through his board of chess pieces so fast that it's hard to sort through all of the information and names being thrown at him. Another short period of time later and Walt's on the phone with the guy who'd gone to clean Jesse's apartment up to begin with- Mike?-, once more running through the situation and urging him to search everywhere an unstable drug addict would be.

"Got it," Mike says briskly before the line clicks in Walt's ear and he grumbles about the impoliteness of it all.

He falls into a half-doze at some point, sitting up with his fingers wrapped tightly around his phone, so when it vibrates out of his hand, he jumps and almost falls out of the chair, just to scramble to recover and answer. "Hello?"

"Found 'im," Mike says. "You're not going to like it."

Story of his life when it comes to one Jesse Pinkman. "Tell me."

He's right. Walt does _not_ like it, this ramshackle place that Jesse's passed out in, drugged up people all around, doing... all sorts of things to themselves, to each other. He tries not to react to any of it, swallowing hard when he hears glass break under his feet. Jesse is sprawled out, unconscious, nearby, and Walt's heart speeds up just a bit when he recognizes him through the gloom and mess. He's pale, shaky, barely focuses when Walt hoists him up and forces him to inch towards awareness.

But when things click with him, oh God, it's like the sky's falling down around them. He grips Walt and sobs over Jane, mumbling things about love in a way that makes Walt think he's truly broken, that Jesse may _not_ recover from this and if so, then Walt not only allowed her to die, but he's killed Jesse too with that split second decision and... _"You don't give up on family."_ The words, echoing back from a conversation with Jane's father no less, return to him and he grits his teeth, clings to Jesse even tighter and feels his sobs like a knife through his chest.

It's a rough night, to say the least. Mike looks unimpressed at having Jesse in his car but Walt throws some money at him and he stops _some_ of his grumbling. Walt isn't sure what to do, but directs Mike to a nearby hotel where Jesse takes a scalding hot shower- Walt can feel the heat all the way by the TV, where he's standing awkwardly, waiting. Within minutes, Jesse's fallen into a silent, staring heap on the bed and Walt still isn't sure what to do, but he orders pizza and gets some water and forces it into Jesse's hand, watching until he sips from it.

They can't carry on this way, he decides. Jane's not here to stop him from taking care of Jesse, and he needs to focus on his upcoming surgery. So, as he sits and watches Jesse struggle through the initial pains of withdrawal, scratching at his arms and rocking back and forth while shaking hard enough to rattle his teeth, Walt can only focus on one thing. He finds his phone and dials the all-too familiar number once more. "Saul? I need to know the best rehab clinic in the area. Money's no object. Just... find one that'll take him. Yes, now." He knows he doesn't need to clarify names, they've both been around the bend with this saga enough to just know. "Thank you."

He hangs up and resumes watching Jesse, the kid's tics and jitters only growing worse with each passing moment. "Everything's going to be fine. I swear, Jesse." He doesn't know how, but somehow. He'll make sure of it.


End file.
